


Once more to the start

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Running on Fumes [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fem!Every grandchild of Finwe, Gen, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2215632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, they’re on different teams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once more to the start

They stood beside each other on the line once again, but this time they both stared straight ahead, not meeting each other’s gaze. It was eerily familiar, and would be comfortably so, if not for the fact that they stood beside each other in different uniforms. Fingon’s fingers twitched a little as she bounced on her toes. Maedhros was still, counting her breaths. 

Fingon at last broke the silence between them. “I’m still going to beat you if I can,” she said, her eyes fixed on the track. 

There was a pause, and then Maedhros said, quietly, “Likewise.” 

Fingon smiled the barest of smiles. 

“Runners: take your marks!”

“I’ll see you at the finish,” whispered Fingon, as she crouched over the line. 

“You’ll see my dust at the finish,” said Maedhros, completing the ritual, and for a moment, their eyes met. 

“Get set!” 

They tensed, and waited for the gun. 

It rang out, harsh in the warm spring evening, and they were off.

 

-

 

“Yeah, Mae!” shouted Celegorm, hands clasped over her head. “Destroy her!” 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” murmured Maglor, hugging herself, fidgety with nerves. “You’ve got this.” 

Caranthir crouched by the track, eyes alight and eager. There was just the straightaway left, and a sizable gap was opening up between Maedhros and Fingon. 

“This is where she starts her kick,” murmured Curufin, her eyes speculative. “Better start pushing it now, Mae.” 

Fëanor said nothing, eyes fixed on his eldest daughter, her red hair streaming behind her like flame, her face caught in tight concentration. Their eyes met, and he gave a short nod. 

And Maedhros flew. 

Even Fingon’s powerful finishing sprint wasn’t enough to close the gap. Maedhros crossed the finish line several easy seconds ahead of her cousin. She slowed to a jog as she passed the official, breath coming heavily as she braced her hands on her waist and worked to bring her heart rate down. Several solid figures hit her. 

“Yeah, Mae!” 

“Killed it!” 

“That was a PR! Wasn’t it? Dad, you were timing. Wasn’t that a PR for her?” 

Maedhros stared off over the heads of her sisters crowding around her, meeting her father’s eyes. He gave another short nod, and a sliver of a smile. “Not bad.” 

She let a smile break across her face then. “Was it a PR?” 

“By three seconds. Not much.” 

“I’ve been trying to beat that time since junior year.” 

“You should have beaten it a while ago. You save too much for the end.” 

Maedhros took the water bottle Maglor held out silently and swigged deeply from it. “I’ll do better next time.” 

“You will.” Fëanor turned away then, and called Celegorm over. “They’re calling you on deck, Tyelko.” Celegorm jogged off to the pit, and Fëanor followed, consulting his clipboard. 

Maglor laid a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “It was a good race,” she said quietly. 

Maedhros smiled, though somehow she felt something less than excitement as her eyes sought a dark head with its gold ribbon across the infield. “Thanks.”

 

-

 

“You got it, Fin!” screamed Aredhel. “Push it in, c’mon, you got this!” She gave a little groan as Maedhros pulled ahead, opening up the distance between them in the last hundred. “Oh, come on, you’re the sprinter, you’ve got – ” She cursed as her cousin crossed the finish line easily, followed a few seconds later by Fingon. 

She cast an annoyed look at Celegorm, who was grinning at her, and set off for her sister. Fingon was bent over, hands braced on her thighs, catching her breath as Fingolfin patted her on the back and proffered water. Fingon waved him away, still out of breath.

“Nice race,” said Aredhel, coming up on her sister. 

Fingon grimaced a little. “Not my best.” 

“What, because you got beat? It was still a damn good time, Fin.”

“Yeah,” said Fingon, but her attention was elsewhere. 

Aredhel shook her head in fond exasperation. “Coach Asshole’s gone off to watch Tyelko jump; you can go over to her now.” 

“Thanks,” said Fingon vaguely, already moving away. 

Aredhel sighed. “Hopeless,” she muttered, and turned away, hands on her hips.

 

-

 

“So.” 

Maedhros looked up from where she was stretching. 

Fingon gave her a crooked smile. “Nice kick.” 

Maedhros stared up at her for a moment before answering softly, “Thank you.” 

They watched each other, silently, before Maedhros seemed to remember that she was supposed to reciprocate in some way. “You ran well.” 

Fingon gave a forced laugh. “Thanks?” 

Maedhros bent her head again, bringing one knee to her chest to stretch out her other hamstring. 

“Mae,” said Fingon, too quietly for anyone nearby to hear. “Will I see you soon?” 

“You’re seeing me now,” said Maedhros, equally quiet. 

“You know what I mean. Sunday…” 

“Hush,” said Maedhros, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. “I – I don’t know if I can get away.” 

“But if…” 

“If I can,” said Maedhros, so low that her lips barely moved. “I’ll be there.”

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Posting because I've had this written for ages, and I heard at least two people would care if I posted it :)  
> 1\. For the record, this chapter is the calm before the storm.


End file.
